Invisible, Part 1
by Virodeil
Summary: "Can't you see that? Can't you see them?" he asks, demands, says, pleads plaintively. But the little one learns quick, and learns not to utter those words when condescending people are around. He seeks and befriends them instead: the Invisible, those who lurk on the edges of history and behind the scenes of great things. And who knows, maybe the Invisible could do the Impossible?
1. Preface

Invisible  
By: Eärillë

Preface

_1. About the Theme_

When lines and boundaries and limits blur, is it called invisible? When history and reality and truth are distorted, is it called invisible? What can be called "visible" then? And is having everything "visible" better for all concerned?

How if being invisible means saving one's family from vicious obliteration? How if being invisible means saving an entire continent from a mass destruction? But what does it take to achieve this? Is it worth the efforts?

There are invisible sides to everything anyway, even when they seem so painfully visible. There are always layers beneath and above what is known, and hidden things on the forbidden or forgotten corners. It is true everywhere, even in myths and legends and fantasies, or perhaps especially in those.

And who would argue that it never applies on Alagaësia and all the vaunted races and places in it, with that reasoning in mind? There are simply too many questions on even the known facts, and too many ways to answer them. For examples: What lie beyond the mapped areas, or even within them? How did the many races – and in fact the world itself – come into being? How were places like Ilirea, Doru Araeba and Carvahall truly founded? Who were the Kings, Queens, and Dragon Riders when the public's eye was not aimed at them? Then again, who were "the Forsworn Riders," truly?

And would there be any "Forsworn Riders" if the Fall had never happened? …

Open eyes and open mind are a must when you wish to spot even a glimmer of the Invisible – and these closely-guarded secrets deserve the capital I, yes yes. Creative imagination would not hurt, too. This is, after all, a fantastical set of fantasies embedded within a fantasy world, which is the result of two fantastical fantasy worlds crashing against each other.

Confused much? No worries, the writer is in the same boat as you are, dear readers.

_2. About the Timeline_

It is deep in the Fifth Age of the world already, right now. The age itself began more than eight thousand years ago, when a few groups of Elves who refused to accept their nature as ageless spirits after living for so long sought to retain their bodies by committing a sacrilegious ritual with still-living human bodies alongside some other "ingredients" stolen from Middle-earth. They became mortals then, or rather the _lucky_ ones of them, although they retained their old powers otherwise, and the heinous action saw them banished out of Valinor and founding Alalía. The Dwarves meanwhile, their society having been long bowled over by the population of Men, had previously abandoned Endorë (Middle-earth) and established dominion in Alagaësia, unknowingly followed by the dragons, their archenemies. In the end, only Men lived in Endorë (Middle-earth) any longer, and in time they were also driven out by the greed of a king, famine, and the over-breeding of the runaway Nazgul's old mounts that preyed both on them and their lifestock.

And in time, all the disparate races gathered in Alagaësia, where this particular story happens, despite the gaps of time and the various causes of leaving.

It is the Fifth Age of the world, and it is bound to be just as long and tricky as the age before.

_3. About the Story_

This not-so-short story is a birthday gift for RestrainedFreedom: a faithful reviewer for my Inheritance Cycle works who has so far never baulked on reading any of my IC fics, even the more-or-less extreme ones, who has also made me speechless with his compliments on too many occasions to count. It misses the date, perhaps, and in fact the month; but the intention of gift-giving is still as true as when I first started it in September, and I apologise for the lateness.

This experimental project is also a nod towards my fellow seekers after "invisible things." And as it is an experimental project, please keep your eyes and minds open, as previously warned, and you might have an enjoyable ride here. I can just hope for that, anyhow, since I am struggling along with it myself.

Well, it explains the rating, at least. It may be a might too high for most of the story, in fact, but I would rather it be too high than it choke up an unwary reader somewhere. It shall never exceed M-rated though, I can promise you that, and the purpose for the rating itself is mostly outside the realms of sexuality and violence anyhow, but rather philosophies and contraversions.

And without further ado, let us (hopefully) enjoy the story together!


	2. Prologue 1: The State of Things

Invisible  
_Prologue Part 1: The Beginning_

Word Count: 800

Notes: The timeline is in the end of Fourth Age, Arda-wise, and the italisised dialogue is done in Quenya but with Sindarin names.

**The State of Things**

`_They still wish to do it, brother?_`

`_Sadly, yes._`

`_Can we not do something about it?_`

`_Sadly, not._`

`_Finrod!_`

`_Hey, I have not been called that for millennia of the human calendar now…_`

`_Then?_`

`_You are making me miss the humans even more, sister._`

`_Save those humans that they caught, then._`

`_I cannot. Do not tempt me, please, sister._`

`_Why? Because you might be tempted to kill all those morons?_`

`_You are indeed wise, Galadriel. I do not wish to be a Kinslayer, if I could help it._`

`_Do not call me that, FINROD. And you are condemning those humans to horrors too-much-imaginable if you refuse to be a Kinslayer anyway. I still cannot fathom why you are so interested with humans even until now; but in this case, I am willing to aid you._`

`_Well, payback is nice indeed, dear sister. And no, I would rather that your hands be clean forever, dear one. And if the Powers do nothing about it, why do you think we can? Would it not end up as disastrous and horribly sad as the Battle of Alqualondë after the thieving of the Silmarili?_`

`_It was a most different case, brother. Can you not see that? Uncle Fëanáro wielded anything and everything in order to achieve a selfish gain, but we would not be doing anything like that._`

`_Would we not, dear one? Or have I mistakenly guessed that you would love to save our dear brothers from this foolish and terrible venture of theirs?_`

Silence permeated the lush, somewhat waterlocked mountain valley in which the conversation took place. But even when the conversation had yet been ongoing, there had been nobody there physically, and there had not been any sound spoken aloud anyhow. The only disturbance to the pristine, idealic mountainous scenery was the refraction of sunlight on something that was not supposed to be sunlit, let alone having the light refracted, namely the shadow under a stand of trees. The softly-glowing mass of light stirred occasionally, but it did not disturb the nature around it at all in all senses of the word. In fact, it seemed to fit in the general setting, somehow.

Sadly, however, as much as the speakers involved wished otherwise, the conversation did not reflect the innocent, peaceful place around which it was held.

`_Do you know when and where that despicable ritual is going to be held, brother?_`

`_Soon, I suppose, if they wish not to be interrupted by anyone and anything. Everything they need have been gathered, after all._`

`…_ You are putting those poor humans into the category of THINGS now, Finrod?_`

`_No, sister, no; NEVER. But it is better for my sanity that I distance myself from them right now. I do not wish to kill my own brothers!_`

Profound sorrow and horror linked the two minds together in misery, and neither spoke for a long, long moment. Around them, the green-but-rocky vale, decorated with various creeks, freshets, small falls and eddying pools, changed lighting many times over, displaying breath-taking beauty through subtle shifts of the angle and quality of the light, though sadly much unheeded. After a few cycles of the sun, the "glowing shadow" just moved over, glided past dewy grass unmarked, passed over freshets and small falls undisturbed, and left the valley altogether. And after leaving the valley, the light-shadow split into two smaller shades, glowing just a little less vibrantly, and separated ways, still without exchanging any mental nor physical words.

The brother and sister were all too aware that they were only two of the many helpless spectators of a horrifying event soon to be conducted on the land thought to have been "Blessed," "Untainted," and "Undying." Soon, at least a third of their race, including three of their own brothers and some more of their relatives, would not fit the description related to the Firstborn Children of the Creator any longer, regardless if their desperate bid for physical bodies went through or not, and they could not bear the horror of this thought alone. The brother, known most famously as Finrod Felagund, was going to seek solace among the Powers of the Waters whom he had grown quite fond of these millennia; meanwhile his sister, Galadriel the Ring-Bearer, was going to spend her time attached to their parents, who must also be just as devastated as they were, especially knowing that two of their father's sisters were counted among those who were about to blatantly violate _all_ laws of the One: bringing humans to Valinor, murdering sencient beings for selfish gain, and violating their own spiritual bodies to achieve wordly physicality.

Neither of them thought that they would come out of this event unscathed, even though they were not counted among the blasphemers; but they hoped, desperately hoped.


	3. Prologue 2: The Convergence

Invisible  
_Prologue Part 2: The Beginning_

Word Count: 2,820

Notes: You might recognise many of the indirect references here, and footnotes are abound anyhow. But to head up any complaint, I do not mean slander either to Tolkien or Paolini; my muse is just too mischievous for my peace of mind sometimes. And my apologies also for the uninspiring diction and atmosphere of this piece; it's already hard enough to try to convey all the varied messages with the plain language and dry narrative and confused timelining I've managed to dredge up. No excuse here; just… I'm sorry?

**2. The Convergence**

Within the roundness of the planet earth, called Arda in the Elven tongue, dotted and intersperced with vast bodies of water, there laid masses of land in various shapes and sizes, with their own features and aspects, mostly galvanised by the whims of the Powers who happened to have made or decorated them. By the middle of the Fourth Age, only two continents had already been explored by the known physical, sentient inhabitants of earth, namely the Undying Lands, called Valinor in the tongue of the most superior of these races, and Middle-earth, called Endorë in the same language; a chunk of Endorë, called Beleriand, had even sunk under the sea two ages ago by this time in fact. That did not mean that other islands and continents were not available to any of these races however, as proven by the Elves and Dwarves around this time.

The Elves who had sought to clothe themselves back in mortal flesh had _somewhat_ successfully conducted their rituals to gain their goal. The rituals, combining various wefts of enchantments, potions and living sacrifices, saw the end of the Fourth Age and the banishment of the Elves who had participate in those rituals, now no longer immortal and untainted, out of Valinor. They were clothed in flesh now, but the doom of mortals were theirs also since they had taken those bodies for themselves*(1).

Well, those whose ritual consisted of only Men as the 'ingredient' indeed retained their features from millennia ago, before their spirits had overcome their earthly bodies; they even retained the glow of their spirits shining through their bodies that had attracted the curiosity of various mortals, though dimmed*(2). But those who sought stronger bodies by putting orcs and powerful beasts of the forest into their ritual were not so lucky. Nothing of their former features remained, save for their mental and physical prowess. Now their skin was grey and dull, and thick muscles sprouted all along their limbs. Strips of black hair adorned their thick-skulled head in-between big curled horns, and yellow eyes peered from harsh-boned faces decorated also with jagged fanged teeth of the orcs*(3). They were not Elves anymore even in the physical sense; they felt so and, ashamed with those luckier ones and afraid with their own new selves, they fled even before all the partakers of the rituals were banned from the Undying Lands.

The voyage of these disgraced former Elves, and even that of their more successful former brethren afterwards, was not hindered, and so after a long while sailing towards the setting sun they happened upon a great landmass out of the reach of the Undying Lands and Middle-earth altogether. The two species converged again in this new land, as the self-embodied Elves had trailed after their disgraced former brethren after the banishment; but after some original altercation, awkwardness and tension, they agreed to part ways from then on and sought their own places far apart from each other. Since vanity was often the prevailing weakness of all Elves*(4), regardless of who they were or what they were now, each side from then on also tried to forget the ties that had formerly bound them together. They erased each other from their memories except for a few manuscripts and journals that were guarded closely and jealously, which were never seen again by anybody save from afar or from the cover by their guardians. And also, given the fascination of all these Firstborn Children of the Creator with languages*(5), they gradually evolved their own sets of languages from those which had graced their tongues millennia before, until almost nothing of the original dialects were recogniseable in the new tongues.

And about the Dwarves? These reclusive, unshakeable, unmoveable stone-lovers at last set sail with all that they had, away from their birthland and homeland for the first and last time ever, as the Fifth Age rolled round and Men alongside their ever-growing hunters – the old mounds of the nine accursed Ringwraiths*(6) – began to impinge too much into their comfort zones: the caves, the mines, and the tall mountains of Endorë. They made peace with the sea for the first time ever – and probably for the last time too – by the help of a few sailors from the race of Men who still held sincere friendship towards them, who did not mind leaving Endorë forever for various reasons of their own, including to escape those Man-eating beasts legacy of the Necromancer of the Black Land.

The Dwarves set sail in fleets of at least a dozen ships each at one time for just as many reasons. The number of ships made sure that they had company and could support each other in this most despised part of their bold venture, but this idea was also born out of practical necessity: Acquiring the sound wood needed to build a strong ship that would brave the oceans for who knew how long was not easy, and other provisions must be gathered enough to secure their lives while on-board also. One big family or one small clan usually took one huge ship for their own use, given the number of belongings a single individual had collected throughout the years and the fact that there were usually twelve to fifteen Dwarves per extended family, and building that one ship would see a small patch of woods demolished. Gathering the needed provisions for such a long and uncertain voyage saw an even more devastating hit on the foodstock throughout the land, unfortunately, which then saw to the decrease of Men's population by at least an eighth out of starvation. In order not to antagonise the larger population by destroying the land and the lives still benefiting from it on the wake of their departure, the Dwarves thus must time the send-off of their voyages properly. They also worked out an advanced communication system by way of improved, tightly-linked Seeing Stones so that the next voyage were benefited by the experiences of those who went before it, usually by margin of at least half a decade.

By the end of the Fourth Age, no single Dwarf could be found in Endorë, just as there was no longer any Elf throughout the land. By that time also, the Dwarves were already established in small ever-growing settlements in the new land that they had discovered, which they called Alag-Kazad in their tongue*(7), which meant Land – in the sense of "big chunk of an island" of the Dwarves. The arrival of the Dragons, their enemies of old*(8), prevented them from being too prosperous or too loose in their new homeland, while nothing and nobody else had ever did before those flying, fire-breathing, dwarf-eating giant coloured lizards came to harass them and mimic their settlement. After all, this wilder, more-beautifully-ragged land had been empty of sentient beings as far as they knew when they had firstly set foot here.

Well, as far as they knew…

Unbeknownst to even most of the Powers, throughout the ages some of the lesser Powers had imitated Melian, one of their number who had taken an Elven spouse and born a half-Elven daughter famed throughout the lands and ages. They had taken mates among the Elves and Men themselves, although not for as long as Melian had, and not as faithfully as well. At most, many of them viewed it as some kind of sport, a profitable adventure, and a show of defiance towards the decree of the Creator who had ordained that there be no fruit in the union between them and matches from their own kind. The results of these ventures, half-Elves and half-Men more powerful and unique than their Elven or Mannish parents, were then spirited away and sequestered in deserted nooks of the various continents and islands throughout the world. From there, began the tales of changeling children and godly progeny that survived until ages later, defying worldly disasters and shifts, even after the real subjects of those stories were no more. These sad progeny rarely ventured out from their hideouts, all too aware that they were different and unable to fit with the rest of the society given lack of social contact, but it did not mean that they lacked in information about the world at large. And more often than not, they held contempt for their divine parents for abandoning them with each other after being taken with or against their will from their other parents, and so found that with good information they might be able to exact punishment on those philandering deities.

Upon the settlement of the Dwarves and Dragons in Alag-Khazad, the half-Powers who inhabited the same continent journeyed to the various settlements and watched the two races unseen and in silence, out of many reasons. But soon the urge to interact with these strange, never-seen-before unwitting intruders grew unbearable, and in twos or threes they began to make contact with the Dwarves and Dragons. The Dwarves called them the Grey Folk, since they always wore hooded grey cloaks whenever they appeared, while the Dragons… well, the Dragons simply acknowledged and tolerated their existence, instinctively knowing that their two races originated from similar sources*(9), and thus they had similar powers. This taciturn relation went on for millennia, even as the "Grey Folk" found the will and ways to communicate with their brethren across the continents, after listening to stories from the Dwarves about the land they had abandoned and the fond memories of places – and sometimes people – they had reluctantly left behind there.

In time, these Half-Maiar closed ranks despite the barriers of land and water, and they began to exchange information and plots with each other. They, wishing to pool their resources together and prevent more Half-Maiar to be conceived just to be abandoned after birth, also thought of gathering the races left out of the Undying Lands together in a strong, stable continent. Hence the Grey Folk living in Alalía, the land of the former Elves and their unfortunate counterparts, urged them to migrate to Alag-Khazad. The same persuation deal was whispered through the ears of Men in Endorë, which the Men now called Elor.

Sadly, before the plan managed to be enacted, the Maiarin parents of these Halflings sniffed it out and became outraged, especially when they found out that these rebellious offspring of theirs wished to bound the laws of energy into one single language as 'punishment' for their parents and their misuse of power.

They struck. They hunted down and killed many of the Halflings*(10), creating chaos in the world as the balances of power tipped here and there and everywhere, which then impacted on the races living outside of Valinor's protection as well in subtle ways. Deserts and icy stretches of wasteland were formed*(11), winter got harsher, earthquakes became frequent, volcanoes erupted, thunderstorms visited often, trees and plants and farmed crops became withered and blighted despite all nourishments or indications otherwise, animals turned skittish and rather hostile even the domestic ones to their own owners, and the seas got even rougher than before.

The Grey Folk became angry; angry and desperate. Their friends from the other races suffered unduely, they suffered very much themselves, and they perceived that their divine parents cared not at all to everything save their total obliteration. So half of their plan got enacted long before its due, and what would later be called "the Ancient Language" was born.

Only a scattered number of the Grey Folk survived this great change because of various reasons, as it did need the melding of much energy from each individual regardless of health and injuries, but they staid true to their own kind, and began to help restore order even as they evaded the notice of their now-bound divine parents.

The Fifth Age had just began, and it already started with a figurative and literal blast; one that never got recorded in the history of any other race however*(12).

Five millennia after this Arda-wide change, those who now called themselves Álfya and Urgralgra, on the subtle-but-persistent urgings of their Grey friends, began to migrate to Alag-Khazad on the east of their own continent. The Álfya called this new land Alagaësia, while the Urgralgra called it Allghrishard. The Dwarves and Dragons were not pleased with this, considering it an invasion of their land, but the discontented voices were quickly soothed by their sometimes-there sometimes-not friends in grey cloaks.

That was, until in the time of famine that proceeded the settlement of the Álfya and Urgralgra, one young Álfa by the name of Lethion mistakenly thought that the dragons were prey and shot one young yellow-scaled dragon to death…

The herendous, bloody war between the two races lasted for five long years, but the restoration of the land and the peace within it took far, far longer. In fact, three hundred years later, as Men began to venture to this war-torn place though just round its southern tip, things were only slightly getting back to the new norm of "normal" – where Dragon Riders, the result of the ultimate pact between the Álfya and Dragons, roamed the land and tried to soothe some figurative ruffled feathers as well as repair the land. But to be fair, none of the Mannish explorers ever met either of the warring parties, only some Dwarves*(13), so they would not know – and frankly, would not be interested in the adventure other than some new experience in an exotic land.

Only more than two millennia afterwards, Men began to have serious second thoughts about doggedly trying to eek a living in Elor, formerly Endorë, under the ever-growing shadow of the Man-eating beasts they called Draoren and their more-wily offspring called Drinun*(14). Their number had decreased sharply due to wars, bouts of famine, and the destruction of the forests and bodies of water, caused either by themselves or the pre-voyage preparations of the Dwarves from a long, long time ago and the hidden war of the Grey Folk too soon after the voyage. They would not be able to afford more loss, and yet their leaders still persisted on continuing the current war against each other: two kingdoms who had always been at war with each other, on and off since the long-forgotten First Age: the white-skinned people of the north and the dark-skinned people of the south. The Grey Folk living in this ravaged land had long given up trying to persuade these stubborn creatures to abandon their 'skin-and-bone' continent to settle anew in another to the south-east, but here and there they still whispered about more peaceful time and more abundance of living space in the new land to those who would still listen.

Palancar, the King of the North, caved into this whisperings just as soon as it appeared that the South would get the better of him and seize his sovereignty. Silently and swiftly, he mobilized his army into emptying the villages and towns and cities in his kingdom for a massive exodus instead of a massive battle, and in staggered stages they fled towards the coast.

And to those who opposed him, or tried to persuade others to oppose him, or refused to lend aid during the exodus? Well, dead people told no tales, and they lightened the collective burdens during the desperate, haphazard voyage away from Elor too, without decreasing the wealths they left behind, a good outcome all-in-all for the proud-but-desperate monarch and his same-minded advisors.

The same continued as, outside of the notice of many, the remaining Grey Folk drove their ships unseen to the shores of Alagaësia, and also those of the Southmen who snuck after them based on information gathered from their spies and sheer deduction. Palancar was greatly displeased that the land turned out to be richly populated by other races, although some patches were left unclaimed by either of those races, as he had originally wanted the land for himself. As the other inhabitants naturally opposed the idea, he resorted to getting on the offensive once more.

Unfortunately, he had assumed that all the other races were _just_ as powerful as Men were…

Alagaësia saw another war, this time committed by Álfya and humans. It was short, thankfully, though bloody nonetheless, and the Men suffered a great loss. And once more it was ended by a pact: the same pact that had sealed the fates of Álfya and Dragons together in fact, by some alteration: the Dragon Riders.

It had been more than seven hundred years ago, and already most of the details had been forgotten or forsaken, even in the long memory of the Álfya and the exacting archiving of the Dwarves. But fortunately or unfortunately, one particular youth had the drive, penchant, resources, curiosity, and dogged loyalty to uncovering and understanding all the invisible things; one particular youth with a tweaked history, with a tweaked destiny… and perhaps a tweaked future also?

Footnotes:

1. Hey don't fault me! Lifaen's remark that once the elves were just as mortal as the humans intrigued me _very_ much since the very first time I stumbled upon it.

2. I couldn't help pulling a thread through the two known characteristic of elves in both universes. It was even more apparent with Dusan and Alana, the little elven twins, from Eragon's point of view in _Brisingr_. Shiny shiny…

3. Just my overabundance of imagination, I swear! I'm sorry if any elf-loving readers are offended… I just couldn't help it, from all the descriptions of Urgals that I have read so far and how intricate their culture turned to be.

4. Another interesting similarity between the two universes, here, and a temptation too great not to mention.

5. Erh… since the elves of _The Inheritance Cycle_ are deadly boring about their _language_, and pardon me for being a little irked with that, this one is purely from the Tolkien universe.

6. Foul-smelling, leathery, beaky, huge, clawed, ugly, screechy… what more do you need to convince you that those Lethrblaka are truly those "foul beasts" that Legolas shot and Éowyn beheaded?

7. Sorry for mangling the Dwarven language! It kinda fits though, you can't complain about that… can you?

8. Similar in both universes too. Even in _The Silmarillion_ and _The _Hobbit and _The Lord of the Rings_ the Dragons harassed the Dwarves more than the Men and Elves.

9. It's said in _The Silmarillion_ and a few side manuscripts related to it that the Dragons and others such as the Wargs and Werewolves and Vampires were actually Morgoth's Maiar put into the bodies tweaked and warped by him.

10. Apologies. I borrowed the term meant for the Hobbits for this, since I felt that it is also apt for these people; and I admit, it was partly because of laziness on my part too.

11. Remember that loooong mural on the outer wall of Celbedeil, the dwarven temple? This is how the Hadarac Desert was created… in Rey-verse, that is.

12. Oromis said that much to Eragon when Eragon was asking about the Grey Folk. I think it was in _Eldest_, but I could be mistaken. Subject for later updating.

13. Again, as told by Lifaen in _Eldest_. He gave more useful tips and clues than Oromis!

14. My word-creation, based on the sizes of these creatures and my imagination of how they would sound. (Trust me, I would rather _not_ try imagine such a thing _ever_ again.)


	4. Prologue 3: The Changeling

Invisible  
_Prologue Part 3: The Beginning_

Word Count: 962

Warnings: sceen of childbirth, extreme thinking

**3. The Changeling**

A wretched scream of agony, exhaustion and anger once more tore through the cold silence of the birthing room, muffled just slightly by the thick draperies and carpets adorning the stone walls and floor. Outside, day had yielded to night a long time ago: the freezing, black night of midwinter.

The delivery process had gone on for a very, very long time, and the royal soon-to-be mother was by now physically, mentally, and emotionally tired by the ordeal. Her consort, the King of the Broddring Kingdom, had blatantly decreed that four royal princes were enough, and he would not welcome a new child unless he knew well that it was a daughter at last. Thus he was absent from this particular event while he had always been present for at least the latter half of the others, not until he was verbally and visually assured that the child was female that was, and the only occupants of the birthing room was therefore only the Queen, the quiet Royal Midwife, and a few of her ladies-in-waiting. But she wished for her _husband_, not these women cowering beneath her everyday regard and daunted by this particular event. And she wished the baby to be out _right now_, as she was feeling chilled from the midwinter night's air and weary to her bones from constantly trying to push the wretched thing out and fend the pains meanwhile. Worse for a mother, she also knew _perfectly_ well that a child born on midwinter night was not up to any good, even if it was a daughter, as she herself believed in this notion. Evil things relished this time of the year and did their macabre revelries on innocent, unsuspecting folks, going so far as putting changelings in the cribs of honest babies. It was why she had thought to get rid of the fetus discreetly when the Royal Midwife had predicted that it was going to be born on midwinter; but somehow, inexplicably, she had baulked from the notion.

And now, she was suffering from her earlier weak-heartedness, with _nothing_ to look forward to.

"I can already see the baby's head, my queen. Please keep pushing." The quiet, reverent urging of the Royal Midwife broke the silence a little while after the scream.

And the Queen did, while pulling the last of her energy together. She screamed again as her midriff contracted and raw, magical power pushed the wretched thing out of her womb _at last_.

The familiar wailing of a newborn greeted her ears.

And then it was the Royal Midwife who wailed: loudly, spontaneously, fearfully.

"Changeling! A changeling!"

The ladies-in-waiting panicked, murmured fretfully, edged away from the bed towards the door.

The Queen sneered at them all, with all the energy left after her last action, which was not much. "Help me up," she ordered, her voice weak but resolute.

The women could not disobey the direct command of the consort to a monarch, not if they still loved their heads attached to their shoulders. So they helped the Queen into a sitting position, propping numerous pillows and boulsters against her sweat-soaked back. But none of them dared even look at the squalling blood-bathed newborn laid on the sheets between the Queen's legs, let alone touch it, although they also dared not peep a word outside of this chamber about the Queen having a _changeling_ as her last child.

The Queen realised that much, and it was all the comfort that she had when she at last looked upon the parasite that she had spent one day and one night contending with.

The baby was _male_. Her husband would never accept him, perhaps even order for a discreet disposal. Sometimes he was more ruthless than she could dream of, and it was what had attracted her to him in the first place; but now, some belated spark of maternity found its way into her heart and made the idea horrible.

That was, until she met the newborn's wide-open eyes.

They were _bi-coloured_ – the foremost sign of a changeling!

A tiny part of her argued that it was still within reason, since her own eyes were icy-blue and small like the baby's right eye, and the King's were pitch-black and bigger than hers like the baby's own left eye. But the much-greater part of her argued fiercer that she had no hope of keeping the boy given the decree of the King, the political nightmare of raising a _changeling_ prince, and the emotional nightmare of _knowing_ that her own flesh-and-blood had been cruelly replaced by a demon, not to mention the horror of the notion that she would have to _be in contact_ with _the changeling_ if she claimed _it_ as her son.

The greater part of her mind won as she spied lightly-tapered ears on either side of the changeling's blood-spattered head, and the twisted legs at the bottom of the not-too-small, writhing mass of blood-bathed, reddened skin. The tiny, maternal side of her weakly reasoned further that her line was long rumoured of having ever been consorting with an elf, hence her great magical prowess and her inability to be fat even after bearing five children; it even excused the twisted legs as the result of such a big baby growing inside her small womb; but all reasons were rejected out of her mind in the end, and she hardened her heart. The changeling would not be in her presence for a moment more, regardless of its current state, and she would not let herself or others touch it during the disposal process. It did not mean that the changeling needed to die, she conceded that much to appease her rebelling-weakling side, but that was _all_ that she would do on its behalf.


End file.
